


Accommodations

by Aashlee_Elizabeth



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aashlee Elizabeth, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aashlee_Elizabeth/pseuds/Aashlee_Elizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one's own level of comfort becomes secondary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accommodations

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is owned by other entities, not by me. (Sad, but true.) As such, I do not profit, nor would I attempt to profit, from this short essay that I wrote to wake up my lazy writing muscles.

Throughout his life, material possessions meant little to Spock. Despite his family's wealth, social status, and political power, Spock wanted little and made do with just as much. The less clutter he had, the fewer distractions he had, and he was content with that.

Unsurprising to his parents, when he left for Starfleet Academy, he brought no more than he could carry: two pair of trousers, three tunics, two meditation robes, a few undergarments, thermalwear to compensate for Earth's cooler temperatures, and his PADD. His luxuries included two books, one of pre-Reform poetry, the other a collection of essays on Surakian philosophy. He carried his ka'athyra and, finally, the holo of his mother and himself that she had insisted he take with him.

As a cadet, his collection of possessions expanded only by the required collection of uniforms as well as a tea kettle to brew the Vulcan teas that his mother sent regularly.

Later, as a lieutenant and junior science officer aboard a science vessel, Spock's volume of belongings remained consistent. His civilian clothing remained pristine, as he rarely wore any of those garments. The material in his robes was woven from the highest-quality, most durable Vulcan fibers, and the limited transition between standing to sitting in meditation, then sitting to standing did little to wear them out. Only Spock's undergarments saw any transiency, yet their volume in his storage closet remained the same.

The few personal items—his books, his ka'athyra, and the holo that he pulled out seldomly—occupied a shelf in that closet. The few roommates assigned shared quarters with him saw nothing of these things. Spock was rarely there anyway.

Spock's personal inventory leapt years later after he accepted a posting to Starfleet Academy. "Leapt" might be an exaggeration, as even his new excess disappeared easily within the space of the Academy's larger instructors' quarters. Cabinets concealed the meager collection of dishware he kept, with space—whole shelves' worth—to spare. Why would he keep more than just the basics when he cleaned and put away his glass, dish, bowl, and utensils immediately after the few meals he took there?

His book collection grew to five volumes, finding their place comfortably on a small shelf just above the couch. The ka'athyra, stored in its case, sat on the floor next to the couch's left armrest for easy access. The holo hid on his desk, obscured by a stack of storage drawers. If he wanted to look at it, he knew where it was.

Orderly. Efficient. Logical.

At least it was, until he met her.

Until she offered him friendship.

Until she became _more_.

What Spock considered sufficient changed when his meager collection of dinnerware could not accommodate a meal for two people. She laughed when they had to eat directly from the takeout containers with restaurant-supplied wooden chopsticks. Although she pronounced the practice "fun," the voice of Vulcan culture railed against it, and he rectified the deficiency immediately. His cupboard now contains another place setting always ready for her, plus another to spare—just in case she stays for multiple meals.

Last year, Spock's pantry contained only enough food to last the week. These days, despite stocking enough for eight days at normal consumption rates, his food runs out in five. Sharing meals with another will do that.

He keeps snacks on hand. He rarely had the need to indulge in such before, but she has cravings at times. So there they are, occupying a formerly empty shelf, waiting, so that hunger doesn't drive her to leave early.

Until recently, his simple couch stood unadorned, bare and plain. Now two generous, colorful pillows rest against the armrests. He never needed them, but she likes having extra cushioning to lean against when she cocoons in her PADDs as she studies, leans back when she and Spock enjoy one of their stimulating conversations, or closes her eyes and settles in as he plays the ka'athyra for her.

A colorful throw, one that his mother included in her latest "care package" ( _It's a human thing_ , he was told) drapes over the back of the couch. The blanket almost made its first journey from the package directly into a drawer. However, as soon as Spock pulled it out, she squealed, admiring its beautiful geometric patterns and combination of rusts, browns, and tans. She rarely needs a blanket in his warm apartment, but it brings her joy, so Spock continues to display it where she can see it often.

The holo of his mother and himself has moved. She found it and encouraged him to place it where she could see it. He is unsure whether she insisted more for her sake or for his. Nevertheless, it now sits on the table next to the viewscreen.

Garment coordinates in his closet have changed. His coat and meditation robes used to occupy the hanging rod's center. Now they hang on the left side, making room for anything she wants to hang on the right.

She does not demand that he rearrange or acquire more material things for her comfort, yet he makes room for them so that she understands he opens room for her, too. These choices, which he makes because of her, enhance his life as well as hers.

Over time, she has left a few of her own personal touches, things that she has chosen: a vase on his table (she likes flowers), the robe that hangs in his closet, the pillow cases and comforter on his bed, the extra slippers by the door. When she leaves, these things remain, so, to him, she never leaves the apartment entirely—an illogical, whimsical thought that he finds comforting nonetheless.


End file.
